A Billy or a Dan, or an Old Tin Can

by Paul Kelly

  She walked home slowly and looked up, apologising to a God that somehow she thought might be up there listening.

  “I’m sorry God. I’m sorry for being so presumptuous,” she apologised meekly, “but I’ll never marry. Please don’t ask me to do that.”

  Then she corrected herself in a moment, for being so self-willed. .

  ***

  She went into the house and took her coat off as she entered the living room.

  “Been out for a walk, Aggie?” Mary enquired as she rubbed her hands on her apron.

  “Yes Mammy. I’ve had a nice walk, thank you. I’m back at the factory in twenty minutes. Do you want a cup of tea?”

  “That would be nice, Hen but you sit down and I’ll make it. You’re on your feet all day.”

  They drank their tea together in silence, for Agnes Blair had her mind on other things.

  ***

  “Mammy Mammy I’ve got a job,” Meggie screamed with excited delight and Mary had to hold her down.

  “Steady now, Meggie steady. Now get your breath back and tell me all about it.”

  She had been accepted by the Fellowship Insurance Company as a filing clerk.

  “I’m so excited Mammy. They say I might be able to use my French, although I know it’ll be a while before that. Lucky if I don’t get away from making the tea for the first six months, I would have thought,” she added realistically as she went into the bedroom and threw herself on the bed.

  “Wheeeeh! ... Sixteen shillings a week ... I’m rich.” she shouted and purred with delight into her pillow.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Wattie looked very serious, with an air of self-importance about him, when Willie met him again. His mother had been making further enquiries about the arrangements for the University entrance, but Wattie had other ideas.

  “Wish I could fall in love wi’ somebody,” he yearned pathetically.

  “You will ... yes, you will, Wattie. Just give it time. You know what I told you about that old balloon it’ll burst sooner or later. Just give it time,” Willie admonished sympathetically ...

  “But I want the bloody thing to burst NOW, Willie. That’s what I want,” Wattie sighed as he wiped his nose on his shiny sleeve. “My Mammy says I have so much to offer and I don’t want to wait too long to offer it, do I?”

  He scratched his crotch and pulled a face.

  Willie was distracted thinking about Rachael as Wattie went on about falling in love. Just the word, ‘love’ gave Willie fantasies about the young Jewish girl who spent so much of her time with his brother and of a cloud of the rich exotic perfume that he had smelt in his bed the night before, bewitched his nostrils and made him sneeze.

  ***

  “Izzat a new suit you’ve got on, Willie?”

  Wattie rubbed the material against Willie’s arm and his lips puckered into a perfectly formed ‘O’.

  “It’s Charlie’s ... He’s got a new one and Mammy cut this one down for me,” replied Willie and Mary Blair had been surprised at how little ‘cutting down’ she had required to do for her second son, since both of them were growing up in the traditional way of the Blairs . Fine, upstanding, upright young men, she proclaimed; all of them were and without exception.

  “Wish I could have a new suit,” sighed Wattie and Willie looked again to the skies.

  “Have you seen Cathie Coutts since the dance, Wattie?” he asked, thinking that subject might cheer his friend up and shake him from his euphoria and of his thoughts about menswear.

  “I only saw her once, Willie ... why?”

  “Oh! No reason I was just askin’ ... Did she say anything?”

  Wattie looked apprehensive.

  “No,” he answered sheepishly, “Well ...I don’t think so.”

  Willie couldn’t resist his next question as he watched Wattie’s reaction carefully.

  “Didn’t she thank you for the chips you bought her?” he asked and Wattie rolled his eyes and his mouth fell open.

  “Oh! Yes. She did say thanks ... why?”

  “Was that all, Wattie?”

  Wattie rolled his eyes further and scratched his left ear.

  “Well ... yes there was something else, Willie.”

  “Yes Wattie and what was that?”

  “She said ...”

  “Yes, Wattie ...Go on ... What did she say? Tell me?”

  “She said I was a nice wee boy ... That’s what she said, Willie and my Mammy thought that was a very nice thing to say.”

  Willie smiled and gave a sigh of relief.

  “Well, you are Wattie. You are a very nice wee boy and everybody knows that ... as well as your mammy ...”

  Wattie face went red and his voice became angry.

  “Hi! There ... No’ so much o’ the wee ... I’m as big as you, any day, Willie Blair. Well, nearly,” he added, wishing he could look just a little bit like his friend, for Willie was Wattie’s idol his dream of what a man should look like, in every single way.

  Willie changed the subject.

  “Have you seen Craigie lately?” he asked and Wattie took the bait with wild enthusiasm.

  “No, I haven’t and anyway, I can’t take tae that wee fella. He’s always blubberin’ ... the wee cissy that he is. My Mammy says he looks more like a wee lassie than a wee loddie. She says he’ll have to buck up his ideas if he wants to get anywhere. He’s always plunkin’ school and ye canni dae that if ye want to get into University, can ye? I think he’s nothing but a wee shit.”

  Willie was hurt that Wattie should have expressed his feelings the way he did. He felt that Wattie would have to rely on his Mammy to get him anywhere, as he wouldn’t be able to do it on his own. Poor Wattie, he thought, as his friend sniffed away contentedly in his innocent complacency and he hoped that Craigie was alright and that his step-father was behavin’ himself. I wonder if Fr. Kane knows ... and what he would do if he did, he thought. What COULD he do if he knew? That was the big question.

  He gazed sadly into space, wondering .and Wattie contemplated his immense good fortune in having Rita Watts as his Mammy. The atmosphere of silent thought was interrupted by the resonant tones of Miss Carson as she screamed her commands and clapped her hands at the same time. All the boys lined up in the playground and stood to attention when she spoke.

  “One ‘f’ is no longer with us, I’m very glad to say and the boys from that class should report to Mr. Finnecan in Room 23. They will now be class ‘1d’ and please leave your desks as tidy as they were when you found them,” she asked as the screaming multitude rushed into the classroom to obey her orders. Wattie lifted the books from his desk as he prepared to transfer, but his thoughts were avid with dreams of the University as he removed the chewing gum from his desk lid and popped it into his mouth.

  Miss Carson put out her hand in front of him as he was about to pass and Wattie deposited the gooey substance from his mouth, into the palm of her chubby hand, leaving a saliva thread connecting his mouth to her itching fingers. She closed her eyes; twitched again and then left the room shuddering.

  ***

  Mr. Finnecan, the new Form Master was a dapper little man with a red neck and hair that stood up on his head, like a brush. His hair was red also and he was known to all the pupils as ‘pepper-pot’ and not just because of the colour of his hair. He called the register, tut-tutting quietly as it didn’t appear to be in alphabetical order and he did like everything to be correct and methodical.

  “Cowan,”

  “Here, Sir.”

  “Barrett,”

  “Here, Sir.”

  “Daniells,”

  There was no answer and he called again.

  “Daniells ... Craig Daniells.”

  “I think he’s sick, Sir,” Willie volunteered his information and Mr. Finn
ecan glanced over the top of his spectacles at the heads of the boys in front of him.

  “Who spoke there?” he asked and his lips tightened into a thin line.

  “I did Sir ... Willie Blair, Sir.”

  The Master scowled and sucked his teeth.

  “Come and see me after school, Willie Blair,” he demanded and returned to the register of names.

  “Watts,”

  “Here, Sir.”

  “Munroe,”

  “Here, Sir.”

  “Forsyth,”

  “Here, Sir.”

  He continued until he reached the last name before he closed the heavy book and looked about him, sitting on his high stool, behind his tall desk, where he could supervise his subordinates with ease. He cupped his chin in his hands and leaned across the desk, scanning the sea of faces before him and moving his eyes from one to the other dispassionately, until he had scrutinised every face in the new class of One ‘d’ .

  “My name is Finnecan, for those of you who haven’t already heard of me, but I can assure you it will not be long before you do. You will address me as ‘Sir’ at all times and remember your place as pupils in my class. Do you understand?” He looked across the classroom again and wet his lips with his tongue. “I don’t particularly like boys, but then I don’t have to like you to teach you. Just do as I tell you and we’ll get along fine, but cross me and I’ll make life so difficult for you that you’ll wish you had never come to this school.

  Now do I make myself understood?”

  His mouth stretched into a thin line again and his eyes narrowed as he waited for his answer, but none came. All he saw was sixty eyes of terror and that pleased him. That was all the answer he required.

  “Now some of you look as though you could do with a good wash, so let’s make that the priority of the day, shall we?”

  He jumped down from his stool and cracked his cane against his thigh.

  “Into the showers with you all and I don’t want to see a boy come out of there, under fifteen minutes. Cleanliness is next to Godliness, I say, so let’s begin as we mean to go on ...MOVE!”

  Everyone scuttled out of the class room and through the gymnasium, into the showers, where they undressed hurriedly and were supplied with towels allocated by the Council for sports days. Soon everyone was enjoying the frolics of the water cascade from the showers as to many of the boys, this was indeed a luxury. Some of them had no showers or baths at home and had to use the public wash rooms, whenever the parents could afford it, but one boy stood reserved and still as the others jumped about in their glee and Mr. Finnecan was quick to spot the reluctant youth, sitting alone on the wooden bench in the changing room and looking thoroughly miserable.

  “Why aren’t you in the showers, boy?” he barked and Wattie jumped to his feet, afraid to answer as he attempted to clear his throat.

  “I’m allergic to water, Sir,” he said softly and lowered his eyes.

  Finnecan stood back and his chin touched his neck.

  “Get your clothes off,” he demanded and Wattie swallowed hard.

  “But, Sir ...”

  “GET THEM OFF... NOW boy ...” He shouted and toyed with his cane, tapping it into the palm of his hand.

  “Please Sir.”

  The teacher pulled Wattie’s jacket down over his shoulders and threw it blindly at the white tiled wall before he proceeded to remove Wattie’s red braces by throwing them across his shoulders. Similarly he ripped off the boy’s shirt and vest, before he tugged at Wattie’s trousers and sent them to the floor. Wattie tripped on his underpants as he danced across the room, trying to retrieve his clothes, but without success. Finnecan kicked them to the wall and laughed.

  “Now boy Remove those drawers and get into the showers. MOVE! “

  Wattie was terrified by this time and his lips quivered as a thread of clear mucous dangled precariously from the end of his nose. He slowly removed his underpants and cupped his potentials in his hands as he walked into the unwelcoming cascade and his warm tears mingled with the joyous squeals of the other boys. Mr. Finnecan strutted around the steam filled room, beating his cane against his thigh, lightly but triumphantly.

  “Wash yourselves thoroughly. The water isn’t rationed if everything else is,” he screamed, “And dry yourselves well under your arms and between your legs,” he barked out his orders as the boys squealed with delight and zig-zagged through the showers, pushing and shoving in an effort to retrieve their clothes. Loud laughter filled the shower room as joke matched joke and vests and other things were sorted out to the right individual. Everyone felt renewed and refreshed except James Watts. He crawled wearily from the showers, clutching himself carefully to avoid any prying eyes and collected his clothes from the various points where his jubilant mates had thrown them.

  Willie was vigorously drying his ears when he spotted Wattie sitting forlorn in a corner.

  “You alright,Wattie?” he enquired, but his friend did not answer.

  “What’s the mater with you? Are you alright?” he asked again. Wattie sniffed and began to cry. “Wattie Wattie, whatever is wrong? Tell me please?” Willie slung his towel across his shoulders and sat down beside him, holding his own clothes in his hands, ready to dress. Wattie was trying to put his socks on.

  “Look,” he said, “I can’t even get my bloody socks on now,” he cringed and pulled the sock off again.

  “Try drying you feet. That helps.”

  Wattie looked slowly towards Willie and dried his eyes.

  “I don’t like takin’ ma claes off in front of anyone, Willie.”

  “We’re all men, Wattie,” Willie added with pride as he studied his chest with great satisfaction and admiration.

  “That doesn’t matter. My Mammy told me that I should never show my ... my thing to anybody, not ever.” He emphasized with determination.

  Willie stood back in admiration, as naked as the day he was born and he studied the laces in Wattie’s boots.

  “Well, she’s right Up to a point, Wattie but school showers are different.”

  Wattie managed eventually to get his socks on and manoeuvred his feet into his thick, Corporation boots.

  “I don’t like Finnecan I just don’t like him at all, Willie.” he said and banged his foot into his left boot as he made his cryptic statement.

  “Don’t worry Wattie ... Just ignore him. He’s an old wanker, he is.”

  Wattie laughed and began to tie his laces.

  “Willie?”

  “Yes Wattie?”

  Willie swung his vest in the air and it landed round his head as he waited for Wattie’s enquiry.

  “Willie .I’m gettin hair on on my thing an’ I don’t like people lookin’”

  Wattie went scarlet as he revealed his secret, but Willie grinned as he stretched himself and exposed his full manhood, as he stood in front of his friend with his trousers in his hands.

  “Big deal, Mate ... Join the club,” he giggled and tucked his all into his pants, but the two boys went home together that afternoon, more united than ever in their friendship for they had a secret which they had shared. The living proof of a boy becoming a man and as they strolled off, they sang the ‘Billy Song’ ... and the rest of the world could go to hell.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Mr. Finnecan looked angry the following morning as Willie strode casually into the class. He was caning his left hand gently as he spied Willie talking to Ackie.

  “I thought I asked you to come and see me after school, yesterday, Blair?” he asked and his voice was calm, if his eyes were wild.

  “I forgot Sir.”

  The Master pulled his lips across his teeth and sucked in his breath.

  “Is that so, Blair? Well, we have ways of making people remember, boy. Come with me.”


  He marched off to the Staff Room telling Willie to follow him, but when they got there, the room was full of smoking teachers and Finnecan pulled the door closed with a bang, no sooner had he opened it.

  “Let them choke themselves if they wish,” he muttered under his breath, “ Follow me Blair.”

  They arrived at Miss Carson’s office and Finnecan knocked, but there was no answer. His face was becoming whiter with fury by the moment as he turned the handle and went in. Willie stood facing him by the side of the Headmistress’s desk.

  “Now Blair. We need to have your memory refreshed, don’t we?”

  He began to swish his cane in the air as he licked his lips.

  “Put out your hands,” he demanded and Willie obeyed, reluctantly. “Not that way, stupid. One under the other.”

  Willie moved his hands as directed, but he shook nervously. His hands would not stay still and as the cane swished down heavily, he uncrossed them before the blow struck. Finnecan was furious. His face was scarlet and beads of perspiration began to form on his forehead.

  “Again boy and this time, KEEP YOUR HANDS TOGETHER. “ he shouted.

  Swish! Swish!, The cane came down but each time Willie opened his hands to avoid the beating. “I’ll show you, boy ... I’ll show you,” Mr. Finnecan screeched as he took Willie by the shoulders and shook him violently. By this time, Willie was afraid.

  “Now bend over that chair.” Finnecan screamed and Willie knew it was useless trying to appeal. This man loved his work, if he hated the boys and he took great pride and delight in the tools of his trade. Willie bent over and within a few seconds, he felt the cane smart his seat, but Finnecan wouldn’t stop there. He kept on striking, time after time as his eyes bulged in his head with rage and Willie could feel the tears come to his eyes, but he would not make a sound as they began to trickle down his cheeks. Eventually, Finnecan stood up, exhausted and his lips shook in his frenzy.